Malarkey Born of Miscarriage
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Jenny Shepard could find sarcasm and chaos in any situation-except this one. So her silver-haired-fox has to find it for her. An LB/SF tag of an angsty-er nature.
1. Honey, I forgot to duck

_A/N: This is yet another LB/SF tag. Consider it me getting into the routine of writing this Jenny again, and this Gibbs, etc. Of an angsty nature (to put it lightly). I couldn't get it out of my head._

_Takes place in winter. Kelly and Tim have been married about a month (Tim has adopted Levi) and Jenny and Jethro have been married about 4 months. I suppose I'd reccommend re-reading the Epilogue of LB/SF for clues. This is set before that and before Jenny was given the position of Director._

**

* * *

**

Kelly Gibbs sighed as she slipped out of the immaculate, impersonal hospital room, exchanging a look with her husband indicating that he and their co-worker Antony DiNozzo should keep everyone's favorite redheaded boss occupied.

Once safe just outside the door, she slipped a cell phone out of her pocket and tilted her head back, shaking her head in slight annoyance at the stubbornness of Jenny Gibbs. The boss lady had taken a nasty fall chasing their latest bad guy, and Kelly was again put in the position of calling said boss's husband and informing him Jenny was hurt. Again.

It was getting harder and harder to inform a man who had already lost one wife that his current one kept getting herself injured. It was getting increasingly awkward, as well considering as the aforementioned husband happened to be Kelly's overprotective, ex-marine father.

She was already dreading the massive fit her father was going to throw when she dialed the number, glancing in exasperation at Kate Todd as the other female agent moseyed up.

"Levi, baby, it's Mommy. Give the phone to Gunny," she instructed absently, glancing back into the room Jenny was being treated in. The redhead snapped viciously at Tony and he scuttled away.

Kelly grit her teeth and looked back ahead of her when she heard her father's gruff voice.

"Hey, Daddy," she began calmly…

* * *

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was engaging in a staring contest with a six-year-old. Immature it may be, but he was never one to back down from a direct challenge, and directly challenged he had been.

He had his grandson for the afternoon (and a lot of the night, most likely) because baseball practice had been cancelled due to snow and neither Kelly nor Tim had been able to get away from a heavy case at work to pick the kid up from school, so it was Gunny to the rescue.

He didn't mind one bit; he hadn't realized how much he liked Levi until Kelly moved out and the house was silent. Silent unless Jenny was pissed about something, in which case everyone in Bangkok was going to hear about it.

Levi smacked his hands together suddenly. He did not succeed in making his grandfather blink and glared heavily, crossing his arms. He bared his teeth and snarled.

"Give up yet, punk?" Jethro asked.

Levi narrowed his eyes, careful not to blink.

From the kitchen counter, Jethro's cell phone rang shrilly and obnoxiously and he immediately cut his eyes to it, blinking. Levi gave a cry of excitement.

"You blinked! You blinked, I win!" he cackled excitedly, shooting up from his place on the carpet and dashing towards the phone.

"Hey, does that have your name on it?" Jethro growled, lazily attempting to thwart Levi's attempt to answer his phone.

"No, Mommy's!" he answered, promptly showing Jethro the caller I.D. He punched a button on the cell phone and scampered away from Jethro, giggling. "Hi Mommy, its Levi. I beat Granpa at—"

Jethro looked over when Levi broke off. The boy came pattering back over, silence in place of rambunctious chattering, and handed Jethro the phone obediently.

"Kel?"

"Hey, Daddy," his daughter began, and his mouth went dry. Levi looked up at him and he gestured for the kid to go play, moving away a little. He recognized her calm, muted tone. It was usually used when she said something like 'I'm going into labor' or 'Someone tried to kill Jenny…'

"No one is dead and all limbs are intact," Kelly continued in that same irritating tone. "That being said, Jenny's hurt—"

"What happened?" he growled, his heart slamming into his chest. Levi stared at him, instinctively aware that something was wrong.

"Don't freak out, Dad; she took a hell of a fall chasing down a guy who tried to rabbit on us, knocked her head a little," Kelly said slowly.

"She okay?"

"Depends on who you ask," muttered Kelly.

"What?" he snapped sharply.

She sighed.

"She's a little out of it, but you know her. Can you just come up here and take her home? She'll go with you. Bethesda Naval—and bring that monkey that I nurture, Tim's going to go ahead and go home with him," she instructed.

Jethro cursed under his breath.

"If Levi heard that, you're dead," Kelly promised cheerily, and a click signaled she'd hung up.

Jethro snapped his phone shut and rubbed his forehead tensely, setting his jaw and taking a breath. He swallowed and turned around, giving Levi a firm look.

"Shoes," he ordered, snapping in the direction of the door.

"Is Mommy or Timmy-Dad hurt?" Levi asked timidly.

Jethro shook his head.

"Nah, son, they're okay—Red bumped her head, we're going to get 'er," he explained shortly. He grabbed his keys and a coat and snatched Levi's up as well, unable to follow Kelly's advice and not worry incessantly until he saw with his own eyes that Jen was safe.

* * *

Levi didn't hurry enough for Jethro's taste, so he picked his grandson up and dragged him into the emergency room, ignoring Levi's outraged protest that he was too old for such rude treatment.

He didn't have to look half around the room; Kelly was waiting at the front desk, tapping a pen boredly against a sign in sheet. She waved him over, and Levi practically kicked him in the shin wriggling to the floor. He threw himself at Kelly's legs and she hugged him expertly, able to make it look like he had her full attention while she really focused on her dad.

"She fell down half the stairs at the Navy Memorial metro stop," she informed him bluntly. "I don't think she hit real hard until she met the landing, but her hands were bleeding and she was dizzy. Tony ended up catchin' the suspect," Kelly hesitated, looking down and smiling briefly at Levi. "She's pissed at us all for making her come here, but she called Tony 'Jim', and she doesn't remember that. I think she's hurting more than she'll let on."

Jethro sighed, rubbing his forehead again. He looked at Levi blankly for a minute, tired of getting calls about Jenny getting cut by some guy with a knife or getting herself thrown in front of a taxi. She had scary self-destructive tendencies, and he'd thought it might stop once they got married.

He muttered under his breath and then straightened up, giving Kelly a look. She turned and pointed, leaning forward a little. He could make out Kate Todd lurking in the doorway of a room and nodded, patting Levi on the head and heading that way.

"Please send my geeky husband to me," Kelly requested, and he heard her strike up a conversation with her son.

Jethro gave a brief nod to Kate as he turned into the hospital room. He touched Timothy McGee's shoulder and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"Kell wants you," he grunted, his voice immediately drawing the attention of Tony and his own invalid wife. Only the doctor kept his head down, his eyes narrowed at a swollen red and blue bruise on Jenny's wrist.

All it took was a ferocious glare at Tony, and the younger man scampered out, leaving Jenny and Jethro alone, except for the doctor.

"Honey," she quipped, throwing a wry smirk at him. "Forgot to duck—or rather, forgot to tuck and roll, apparently."

He made it clear he didn't think it was funny and moved closer, looking over at the doctor as the physician gently placed Jenny's hand in her lap.

"It isn't sprained, it's only banged up badly," he decided, touching her shoulder gently. "Bruised almost as badly as this and your collarbone, so you need to take it easy. Elevate it if there's pain, keep ice on it, over the counter painkillers will do wonders," he said. He looked at Jethro.

"Husband?" he asked in a business-like way. Jethro nodded curtly. The doctor nodded, removing a stethoscope from his ears and holding Jenny's chin up gently. She gave him a threatening look as he squinted into her eyes and held his finger up, making her follow it.

"She's okay," he informed Jethro, turning away and leaning against the table. "Knocked her skull pretty good—"

"Believe you me when I tell you I have knocked it harder against his headboard," Jenny remarked smartly.

"—so I'm marginally worried about a concussion," finished the doctor, attempting to hide a small smile at the comment. "Best if she doesn't drive until tomorrow, and rests up for the remainder of the day."

"Just had to put that in his head, didn't you, you over-educated bastard?" Jenny asked bluntly, lifting a shapely eyebrow at the doctor. He just smirked and shook his head, removing gloves from his hands.

A majority of the doctors knew Jenny or had worked with her on cases before and put up with her personality relatively well. This one was no different. Jethro gave the doctor a gruff thanks as he exited the room and prowled closer to Jenny, ignoring her warning, cagey look.

He ran his palm gently over the swollen wound on her wrist and then peeled back her crisp oxford to look at the bruise on her shoulder. That one was really something.

"Dammit, Jenny," he swore, pressing his palm soothingly against the bruise and looking at her to see her reaction. The flicker of discomfort in her eye was clear, but it was gone just as quick and she rolled her eyes.

"Dammit, Jethro," she mimicked brightly. "'Tis but a flesh wound," she scoffed.

He gave her a sharp look and studied her face for a moment. She looked paler than usual, and her eyes were a little dull. He pushed a bunch of tangled red hair back over her shoulder and pressed his lips briefly to her forehead.

"I'm taking you home," he informed her, brooking no argument.

"I am in general disagreement with that statement."

"Tough luck," he growled, pulling her shirt over the bruise and giving her a hard glare.

"Oy, Red," Tony poked his head into the room. "McFather took Levi home, so Kelly and I are going back to book the guy and let Kate evaluate him, capiche?"

Jenny's eyes flashed and she looked about to kill her partner for suggesting such an idea, but Jethro ran his hand down her shoulder gently and warningly and she swallowed, turning her eyes on him. She threw a curt nod in Tony's direction and slipped off the table, wincing as she straightened her shoulders.

"I resent you."

He snorted, shaking his head in amusement. Jenny gave him a suspicious look and moved away, tossing her hair back. In the next second, she'd flung her arm out against his chest and grabbed him, stumbling forward.

Effortlessly, Jethro caught her, giving her bent head a protective glare and lacing his fingers thorough her petite ones while she caught her breath.

"Who put the floor there?" she muttered sarcastically, glaring in front of her. She sighed and straightened up, giving him a chastised look.

"I stand corrected. I want to go home."

"Looked more like you _fell_ corrected," he quipped. She pinched his fingers meanly. She gave him considerably less trouble, though, following her less-than-graceful attempt to dance with the hospital floor.

* * *

Jenny felt sluggish. Her head was pounding, her shoulder hurt like hell, and she just felt sick. It was a rare occurrence for the redhead, and she loathed it. Her relatively new husband kept glancing at her suspiciously as he drove, as if he expected her to start screaming in pain any moment.

She'd had worse.

She didn't like how she felt right now, though. She had a bad feeling. It just lurked in the back of her mind, niggling her. She thought it had to do with the case, but it was worse now. She closed her eyes briefly.

"Jen," Jethro asked gently after a moment, and she realized the car was parked and they were home—his home, the place she now called home. She blinked at him, swallowing shakily. He leaned over, concerned. "You sure you're okay?"

She nodded, sitting up. She winced, reaching up to rub her neck, and gave him a small smirk, unbuckling her seatbelt. She reached for the door handle and compressed her lips.

"There is a distinctly high possibility of me vomiting," she warned him bluntly, and quickly shoved open the car door and proceeded to do so.

* * *

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not enough of a fool to suggest to his wife that she was acting weird, but she was.

She seemed to be feeling okay. She had eaten dinner as if she was hungry, but she was quiet, and while that didn't necessarily mean something odd was afoot, this quiet struck him as peculiar. Jenny seemed to be concerned about something.

He had left her in the living room watching news coverage of an event in the Middle East while she went over some case files while he retreated to the basement to work on his latest woodworking project.

He had changed into pajamas and was fumbling covertly with her alarm clock late into the night; he planned on refusing to allow her to go to work tomorrow. Jenny was in the bathroom, showering or bathing and generally getting ready for bed. The door was cracked.

He poked around in her drawers for the massage oil she kept in there, intending to knead out the tension in her bruised muscles before bed so she'd sleep better. He stretched out on the bed, his back propped against the headboard, and was capping and uncapping the top when she called out.

"Jethro."

That was all she said, and he tilted his head, looking towards the ensuite bathroom. She opened the door and braced her arm against the doorframe. He lowered his hands and looked at her, sitting up some. In this light, she really did look pale; ghostly. She was only half-dressed, in a simple bra and shorts and a robe. She held a wet towel in her hand.

"Jen?" he asked.

She moved the hand with the towel in it unconsciously.

"I'm bleeding," she said coolly, in such an odd way that he was unsure how to respond right away. She had been complaining of cramps earlier, so wasn't that—?

"Women do that," he remarked hesitantly. Jenny shook her head. She made a noise of disbelief and he sat up, swinging his legs off the bed and looking at her closely. He narrowed his eyes when he focused on the towel. There was a _lot_ of blood.

"I need you to take me to an emergency room," she said dully, her hand sliding down the doorframe slowly. She came forward, dropping the wet towel on the bathroom floor. He tensed up; if Jenny was asking him to take her to a hospital, something was beyond wrong.

He stood abruptly, abandoning the massage oil. He ignored the flashing late hour on the alarm clock and strode over to her, taking her arm as she opened her bureau drawer for a pair of jeans.

"Jen," he said curtly, running his hand over her shoulder.

She pulled the jeans out and shoved her damp hair behind her ears, kneeing the drawer shut with a wince and leaning forward on the bureau.

"I think I'm having a miscarriage," she said hollowly.

Jethro tightened his grip on her arm, nodded shortly, and went for his keys.

* * *

'_Honey, I forgot to duck': The worlds Ronald Reagan said to his wife Nancy after he was shot upon seeing her for the first time. He, in turn, had stolen the phrase from boxer Jack Dempsey, who said it to HIS wife the night he was beaten by Gene Tunney. Little history lesson. Enjoy. _


	2. Four Minutes

Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat in a cold impersonal chair in Bethesda Naval Hospital's waiting room and stared at the slowly ticking clock on the wall. It was bad enough that Jenny had been here barely less than eight hours ago. It was worse that she'd asked him to stay out here.

He cleared his throat in the silence of the tiled room, leaning forward slowly and resting his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his forehead roughly and then dropped it into his palm, clenching his jaw.

It had taken a few more minutes than he would have liked for triage to agree Jenny needed immediate medical attention, and in those few minutes, she had remained quieter than he'd ever known her to be.

He didn't understand why she wouldn't have told him she was pregnant.

He was bothered even more that she didn't want him with her back in the ER.

Jethro looked up, breathing out slowly, narrowing his eyes at the clock again. It was after one a.m. now. He looked up and leaned on his knee sharply when he heard the dull click of nurses' shoes on the tile.

"The doctor wants to speak with you," the nurse informed him, keeping her voice low in the already somber atmosphere. He just stood up, put his keys in his pocket, and followed her through the heavy doors, his mouth in a tight, thin line.

She led him down a hall, down another hall, and pointed to a man writing on a chart outside of a door. Jethro approached the doctor, and the other man, clad in a long white coat, placed his clipboard on the door and turned to Jethro, holding out his hand.

"Mr. Gibbs," he greeted tiredly. "Kurt Dove," he introduced.

Jethro just nodded shortly. Dr. Dove reached out and rested his hand on the door handle, cracking his neck and straightening his shoulders.

"Your wife suffered a miscarriage," he said, confirming Jenny's suspicions. "In some cases, we're able to stabilize a pregnancy to prevent spontaneous abortion, but in this case there was too much trauma and we failed to detect a fetal heartbeat."

He stopped, as if he expected Jethro to speak, but Jethro just looked at him, taking it in. This doctor had no idea what Jenny had already been through. He just wanted him to shut the hell up and let him see her.

"The fetus was seven and a half weeks, which contributed to the physical discomfort Mrs. Gibbs experienced, as well as the incomplete nature of the miscarriage. I have already discussed with her a few recovery options, and the nurse administered mild pain medicines. I did notice she was here earlier due to a fall," Dr. Dove paused again. "Mr. Gibbs, had we known she was expecting, we would not have released her without a thorough check-up."

Jethro appreciated the comment, even if it didn't matter. He looked at the man impassively, unable to communicate with him at the moment. Dr. Dove released the door handle and held out his hand as if saying it was okay for Jethro to enter.

"Do you have any questions?" Dr. Dove asked. The doctor's eyes were red, as if he'd been on call too long. He looked worn out. Jethro shook his head. Dr. Dove nodded and moved away, leaving Jethro alone.

Jethro braced himself and opened the door.

* * *

She was sitting up in bed, covers abandoned, her knees propped up in front of her. Her hair was loose, no make-up, and she still looked pale, but not nearly as sick.

He said nothing as he shut the door and marched over, pulling a plastic chair close to the bed and sitting down silently. He was suddenly grateful this hadn't happened when the rest of the team was around to deal with it.

Jenny looked over at him and shifted onto her side somewhat, facing him. She brushed bangs out of her face and reached her hand out on the blankets, beckoning for his. He slipped his fingers into hers and she held tightly, taking deep breaths.

He ran his thumb over her wrist, the one that was swollen and bruised and hurt. He knew it felt like nothing to her now. She looked at him unblinkingly and compressed her lips, shifting her head.

"They waited _four_ minutes for the heartbeat," she said shakily, her fingers shaking. She took a deep breath. He squeezed her hand. She kept looking at him; he didn't know what to say. He hesitated, his brow furrowing, stroking her hand.

"Jen, you didn't tell me," he muttered hoarsely. It wasn't accusatory, it was uncertain. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

She parted her lips, blinking her green eyes rapidly. She didn't answer, and then she looked away, down at the pillow, moving her head slightly.

"I didn't know," she said dully.

He reached up and covered her hand with both of his, pulling it up to his mouth. He pressed his lips against her fingers. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, her brow furrowing, looking at him with pained eyes.

"How could I not know? Goddammit," she swore hoarsely. "I should have known. I've been pregnant before—" and she just stopped talking.

She hadn't been sick in the mornings. She hadn't acted differently at all, she hadn't mentioned missing a period. She had been handling such a heavy case load lately, working a lot; stressing a lot…perhaps the signs had gotten lost.

Jethro couldn't find a way to comfort her there. He didn't know how that felt. He hesitated to ask if she was feeling okay; he wasn't sure he'd be able to empathize. She shifted, sat up some, and winced, her bruises hurting her.

He straightened somewhat as she did, watching her carefully.

"Jenny," he said softly, as she ran a hand through her hair and moved her legs, bare in the thin hospital gown. She shook her head as if she knew what he was going to ask.

"It's hard to miss something you didn't know you had, Jethro," she said shortly.

Jenny turned her head towards the wall, and Jethro leaned forward, tilting his head. He watched her brush her hair back. She did it again and he realized she was wiping tears away. He got up and reached for her arm. Jenny jerked it from his grasp only to cover her mouth and bow her head, her face crumpling.

Jethro sat down on the bed next to her and slipped his arms around her shoulders and waist.

Jenny very rarely cried. It had a distinctly sobering effect when she did, particularly when it was combined with an absence of her usual sarcastic, biting humor, and there was absolutely none of that now. He rested his hand on the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair soothingly.

She shook her head, gripping his thigh and rubbing.

"I wouldn't have been so careless, Jethro."

"Jen, it wasn't your fault," he muttered in her ear. She made a distraught noise and buried her face willingly in his neck. It was calm, quiet crying, not nearly as desperate or heartbroken as he'd seen her cry over her first husband and son.

Jethro pressed his lips against her temple, trying to comfort her. He knew it was eating her up that she hadn't instinctively known, and he didn't know how to ease that guilt without making her angry.

"You're hurting me," she said after a moment, very softly. He loosened his grip, running his hand down her back. He reached up and touched her face, running his thumb under her eyes. She blinked at him, swallowing.

"I have to have a D&C," she said quietly, clearing her throat. He looked at her, reaching down to cover her hand on his thigh. "The miscarriage was incomplete, I bled but," she took a steadying breath. "It's still…the doctor has to get it out."

She looked sick.

"I can wait," she continued after a moment. "Let nature take its course, or I can have the D&C, which will clean everything up with less risk of infection. The D&C," she paused again, her voice steady. "The D&C poses a minimal risk of hurting chances of future conception," she told him, breaking off and looking at him.

She slipped her hand up over her forehead and into her hair, pressing her mouth against her wrist. She closed her eyes.

"I want the D&C."

Jethro nodded, running his fingers over her wedding ring absently. He tilted his head and moved closer, pressing her hand against his leg.

"You sure, Jenny?" he asked gently.

She nodded, a tear escaping her closed eye. She sucked in her breath, breathing quickly for a moment.

"If it might do lasting damage—"

"I cannot sit around and wait to complete the miscarriage," she cried out. She bit her lip. "It could be days."

He pulled her towards him gently, resting his chin on her shoulder easily from the angle. He placed his hand on her lower back again, playing with the edges of her long hair.

"It's okay, Jen," he murmured. "It's your choice."

She leaned her head against him, entangling her hand in his. He messed with her hair, tilting his head a little, pressed a kiss to her neck. She wasn't angry with him. He must be handling this right on some front. He was too shocked to react. It affected him somehow in the back of his mind; a primal effect: she was his mate, he hadn't kept her safe, and she'd suffered. It made him angry.

"You don't have to risk hurting your chances if you want a baby, Jen," he said slowly. "It's hard," he rubbed her shoulder. "I'll be there."

She took a shaky breath.

"I want the D&C, Jethro," she said again, chewing on her lip. Her eyelashes fluttered against his forehead. He felt her bit her lip. "I don't care. I don't think I can handle this again."

He nodded. He had let her know in his own subtle way they could have a baby if she wanted to. The subject had never been discussed, never even been referenced. He would never bring up a painful subject like that, and Jenny hadn't broached it either and this sort of flung it into their faces without warning.

She moved her head again.

"I want to get it over with," she said quietly. "Can you get the doctor?"

He nodded and shifted, pressing a kiss to her temple again before he slowly slipped his hand off of her back. She leaned back and turned towards hi, curling up with her hand by her face. She smiled weakly at him.

He swallowed harder than usual and turned, shoving the chair a little too violently out of his way as he went to find the doctor.

* * *

It was such a _medical_ procedure. Medical terminology, risks and benefits, papers to sign, et cetera. It felt out of place to handle such practical aspects. It felt mechanical and he grit his teeth through it, irrationally annoyed that Jenny had to be exposed to it.

The doctor treating her amended his treatment measure to a vacuum aspiration, less invasive and less risky, as she had miscarried so early. It meant local anesthesia, a fifteen minute procedure, and a few hours recovery time.

Jenny asked him to stay this time. He sat in a chair next to her quietly, only talking if she said something first. She didn't say much. He knew her well enough to know she wanted to go home, she wanted a drink, and she was angry because she felt weak.

Time was passing slowly, in snapshots. It was after four in the morning now, and Jenny was dressed back in the jeans and blouse she'd thrown on to come out here. She sat on the bed, listening to the nurse's instructions, while Jethro stood with discharge papers.

"You're likely to experience soreness, so we recommend you refrain from sexual intercourse for a few days, or until you're comfortable. We also feel it's best if you avoid another pregnancy for at least a month. Though the procedure wasn't overtly invasive, it did put stress on your body and you are required to rest, and Dr. Dove thinks you should take an extra day due to the stress of your occupation and the injuries you've already acquired," the nurse took the signed release forms from Jethro and tucked them under her arm.

The woman looked sympathetic, but Jethro didn't feel it from her. She no doubt saw this hundreds of times. Jenny was just another woman to her. Still, she looked at her patient and gave her an apologetic look.

"I am sorry for you loss, Mrs. Gibbs," she said sincerely.

Jenny looked up sharply. Her eyes narrowed. Jethro took the nurse's arm gently above the elbow, clearing his throat, and made it clear as politely as possible that she should leave. Jenny looked ready to rip her throat out.

The nurse left the door open. Jenny was allowed to go home.

Jethro fumbled for his keys, the jingling they made in the quiet room too loud. He jerked his head gently towards the door.

"C'mon, Jen," he coaxed.

She stood up, stretching, and yawned, her eyes dry. She was exhausted, she was hurting, and she wanted to be at home. Technically, she had to be at work in two hours. She was programmed to think of work.

Jenny reached out and grasped Jethro's coat as he started to lead her out. She looked at him impassively and then moved closer and hugged him, just hugged him, tight. He was warm, and she knew he felt like he wasn't doing a damn thing.

"It's okay, Jethro," she murmured, tilting her head towards the door when she slipped away.

His hand fell possessively to her lower back. She knew it eased his worry a little.

* * *

Jenny went straight into the kitchen after slipping her jacket off. She looked in the refrigerator, and then picked up an apple from their fruit basket, looking at it thoughtfully.

"You want a drink, Jen?" Jethro asked, resting his hands on her shoulder from behind. She took a bite of the apple and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, shaking her head. She reached up and touched his hand, standing and turning around.

"I could use that therapeutic boat of yours right about now," she said slyly, still not quite herself. He smirked gently. It was too cold for sailing, and the boat had been finished a month or so before they married.

She took a few more bites of the apple and then sighed, glancing away.

"I'm tired," she said quietly. "I want to lock myself in the bedroom alone for a few minutes," she said calmly. "Do not let your ego be trampled upon," she continued a little edgily. "Come in a minute or two."

He studied her for a minute; loathe to let her go dwell by herself. He rubbed her shoulders, nodding slowly.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "Okay, Jen."

She smiled solemnly and slipped away from him, taking the fruit with her. She hadn't eaten since breakfast. It struck her suddenly how unhealthy she'd been lately. Skipping meals, getting no sleep, taking risks…she shuddered to think—god, all the alcohol. She blinked the guilt away.

"You're going to stand there and count the seconds, aren't you?" she asked tensely.

Jethro made a point of turning away and letting her escape. He pulled the refrigerator open and pulled out a beer, figuring in the time it took him to knock it back, Jenny would be okay with him joining her.

He didn't want bourbon right now; it was too hard, too strong, and wine was too soft and romantic. But he damn well needed something. He wasn't Jenny. He was sure he'd never be able to feel this like Jenny did, but it was rough. She wasn't the only one who had lost something, he just didn't know how to take it, or if he was even supposed to be affected.

He counted five more seconds under his breath before he disposed of the suddenly empty Corona and flicked off the kitchen light, making his way by ingrained memory to the bedroom. The door was cracked.

The bathroom light was on, and she'd left the door open. He left it that way, assuming she wanted some light, and stripped off the more restrictive of his clothing before he got into bed with her.

Jenny shifted from her back to her side wordlessly and then settled on her stomach, her entire right side pressing against him. He rested his hand on her back gently, staring up at the ceiling.

* * *

He was surprised Jenny slept at all that night, or what was left of it. He turned off their alarm clock and stayed next to her, listening to her breathe, on edge, expecting her to wake up screaming.

She was still asleep when the clock hit seven, and he got up stealthily, covering her in blankets, shut her in, and went into the kitchen to make a call. Kelly would still be at home getting Levi ready for school; she was usually the one who got to work at eight, an hour later than the rest of them.

"Hello?" she answered, barely letting the phone ring once. "How's Jenny?" she asked immediately, and she sounded distracted. Levi was making noise in the background.

"Mommy, fruit loops. Fruit _loops_—"

"No. Cheerios. Eat—Dad?" Kelly asked, giving him her attention again. She must have walked away from Levi, because his voice got quieter. Jethro held the phone close to his mouth, checking the hall.

"She's not comin' to work for the next couple days, Kel," he said neutrally.

He hadn't decided what he was going to say yet. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with Jenny. Yet he knew, if she didn't go, Tony's pestering would be incessant, and it would drive her mad with grief or anger. The younger man wouldn't mean it; he would just be ignorant of the delicate matter at hand.

"Hmm? No? How did you manage that? She's okay, though, right? No concussion, same old invincible Jenny?"

Jethro snorted derisively at Kelly's description.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Kelly asked impatiently, sensing it.

He gripped the countertop.

"Jen had a miscarriage," he said. There was a distinctive pause on the other end of the line.

"What?" she gasped. He knew he didn't need to repeat it; she was just processing the information. "When—"

"We were in the ER all night," he told her, keeping his voice low. He could hear Kelly's shoulders slump and her grip the phone tighter through the earpiece, he knew her that well. He waited moment and then went on.

"The others need to know not to harass her when she comes back. Don't broadcast it but," he hesitated briefly, torn. He didn't know what his wife would want in this situation. Judging by her careful guarding of Jim and Peter's deaths, she wouldn't want a soul to know about his miscarriage. "Handle it, Kelly."

"Yeah," she agreed sincerely. "No, yeah, I understand, I'll be subtle. They don't need to know, Daddy—but Tim, I—"

He told her he didn't care if she told Tim. There was no reason to ask her to keep secrets from her husband. He'd thank her if she could find a way to subdue Tony's pestering without alerting all of Jenny's colleagues to what had happened.

"I didn't know she was pregnant," Kelly murmured. "Levi Michael McGee, get your damn shoes on _now_," she snapped suddenly. Evidently the news had put her on edge. Jethro looked down the hall again; making sure Jenny was still in their room.

"Neither did she, Kel," he muttered.

"Oh," Kelly said. She pulled the phone away from her mouth. "Levi…ONE," she shouted. She sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she said quietly. "Is she feeling okay?"

He shrugged.

"She's sleeping," he said.

"TWO, LEVI!—argh. Daddy, I've got to go, he's being a nightmare," she growled, distracted again. "Can I come by later?"

"No," he said sharply. "No, that's a bad idea," he said. That's one thing he was sure of. The last thing Jenny needed was a woman with a healthy kid hanging around. It would be as bad as Kate coming by, with her three-month-old.

"Okay. Okay, that makes sense—I'll call you later, Dad."

"Bye Kel."

"Mmhmm. Love you. 'Bye, Dad."

She hung up and Jethro pushed the phone aside. He had probably upset his daughter for the rest of the morning. She tended to feel strongly for people, and Jethro figured that, as a mother, she'd probably be crying for Jenny in the bathroom at NCIS or something.

Jethro pushed Kelly from his mind. Tim and Levi would take care of her. He had to make sure he was here for Jenny.

* * *

Sometime later in the morning, after he'd brewed coffee and gotten the paper and stood in the kitchen silently for a while, he was restless enough in not having seen Jenny that he gave in to checking up on her.

He left his second cup of coffee in the kitchen and made his way back to the bedroom, opening the door quietly. He almost sensed that she was awake and not in bed before his line of sight confirmed it.

She was in the bathroom, and he made it a point not to go in right away so she wouldn't balk at his concern and lash out at him in a show of hostility. She was moving things around, and when she stopped, he approached slowly, bracing his hands on the frame of the door as he came in.

She glanced up at him, pushed a drawer shut, and looked away, holding her hand out. When he offered his palm, she placed a circular object in it and pressed, slipping her hand out just as quickly.

Jethro looked down at her container of birth control and back up at her. He flicked it open as she opened the medicine cabinet and pulled her hair back messily with an elastic, delicately picking up her toothbrush.

"I missed two along the line," she said matter-of-factly. "Stress, working too much, subconsciously not giving a damn," she listed bluntly. She shrugged and closed the cabinet, running water as she examined her face. "And we have a lot of sex," she added

He stared at the looked at the skewed number of little pills in the container and snapped it shut, looking over her cursorily. Her face and hair were both still clean and fresh, but she had jeans on, an unbuttoned cashmere sweater, and a necklace of yellow stones.

"Jen, what're you doing?" he asked tiredly, a hint of irritation in his voice. He'd be damned if she was going to even attempt going to work.

Her toothbrush snapped loudly against the sink.

"I'm going to work."

"The hell you are," he barked, louder than he meant to. He took the toothbrush, tossed it away, dropped the birth control oval, and took her arm as firmly as he dared, coaxing her back to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He crouched in front of her giving her a pointed glare, and she leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees.

"You are _hurt_, Jenny. You have medical orders to stay home. This isn't just some minor scratch. You're hurt," he repeated shortly.

"So naturally, the highly educated ER doctor feels that forcing me to stay home and think about it is most conducive to a healing process," she snapped dully, moving her arm away from him.

Jenny looked up, meeting his eyes tiredly.

"I can't."

He reached up and rubbed her bruised shoulder gently, letting her catch her breath a minute before he decided to answer. Jenny lifted her hand and twisted her wedding ring; her wrist shook slightly.

"I don't understand," she said, frustrated, before he could say a thing. She put her hand over her mouth briefly. "I don't understand how I could _not_ know I was pregnant." She shook her head dejectedly, curling her fingers into her palm. "It says nothing for my instincts," she paused again, and Jethro brushed his fingers against her neck, choosing his words carefully.

"You've been stressed," he said quietly.

"Seven _weeks_," she whispered, as if letting it sink in. She dipped her head lower and bit her lip, then looked up at him. She took a deep breath. "It's too long not to feel something," she murmured, her brow furrowing.

She swiped her hand over her eyes in a cleverly brief way and blinked in such a way that she looked completely fine. She took his hand, squeezed it gently, and stood up, slipping past him. He bowed his head and grit his teeth stubbornly. He was having a hard time connecting with her here. He knew nothing he could say would make it better and there was a difference in how they felt about this.

He was a man; she was female.

He sensed more of her horror was stemming from the thought that she hadn't _known_ she was pregnant, and that was shaking her intuition to the core. The baby, she was upset about on a fundamental level, but as she'd said in the hospital, it was harder to miss something you didn't know you had until it was gone.

Clenching his fist, Jethro got up flicked the bathroom light off, leaving her things out. He stopped in the bedroom when he noticed her cashmere sweater thrown haphazardly on the bed. After a moment, he wandered into the living room.

Jenny had opened all the curtains. The stereo was playing soft music. He blinked, caught off guard by the atmosphere. He cast his eyes around the room and found the porch sliding door open, even with the winter cold, and Jenny curled up in her coat with a living room blanket on the swing. Her hair was bright against the dim winter.

He grabbed his coat from the hall and went out slowly, sitting down next to her neutrally. She took his hand and slipped her fingers through his, her gaze faraway over the yard. She shifted after a minute or two and lay down across his lap, resting her head on his thighs.

"My abdomen is hurting," she said mildly, pulling his arm around her. She held it on her stomach peacefully. Jethro combed his fingers through her long hair.

"I am sore," she added vaguely, referring obliquely to the procedure she'd had, surreal as it seemed, less than twelve hours ago.

"It's okay, Jen."

She gripped his hand tightly.

"Jethro, I'm going to fucking cry again."

"Okay."

The icy sun was out. He stayed out on the porch with Jen all morning, though she usually hated the cold. It must have numbed things for her


	3. Malarkey

_A/N: Malarkey. A name taken from (well, the English vocabulary, for one) the HBO series 'Band of Brothers', featuring a Private Malarkey, who is once oh-so-lovingly referred to as 'Private Bullshit'. Thank you, Tom Hanks. _

* * *

Dealing with the loss was comparable to walking on eggshells. He wasn't sure she felt the same way; for once, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was finding it hard to gauge Jenny's emotional state. She seemed a little angry, a little reserved, a little less snappy, and a little more willing to listen if he told her to rest or eat something.

He'd call her behavior normal, except he knew something was going on in her head.

He knew she hadn't slept at all this past night, a mere couple nights after the miscarriage, yet he hadn't followed her when he heard her get up. It was Sunday morning, she was probably going stir crazy from lack of work or venturing from the house, and he thought it best to let her be.

Sunday mornings were usually good, if circumstances provided for the absence of Jenny's work and Kelly and Tim didn't bring Levi over. Jethro lay on his back contemplating dragging himself out of bed when she entered the room and crawled back in bed, clad still in one of those little nightie things he liked so much.

She crouched half over him, one leg between his, one arm next to his shoulder, and kissed his jaw.

"Jethro, you ate all the strawberries," she murmured. He shrugged, breathing in her scent. She'd been into the coffee. She smiled against his neck and pressed her lips to his. She tasted like coffee.

She straddled his hips and slipped her tongue in his mouth, finding him a quite willing participant in this turn of events. He ran his hands over what inch of her bare skin he could and then pulled her silk over her head and tossed it aside.

It half-occurred to him they should take it easy—no, wait another day or so, but he was hard-pressed to turn Jenny down, and she knew better than him what she could handle and what she wanted.

He was surprised when, after a good fifteen minutes of foreplay, he pulled her under him and she gripped his shoulder and stopped him. He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what was wrong from the guarded look in her emerald eyes.

"Jethro, will you," she paused, as if she couldn't believe she was saying this, "put a condom on?"

He blinked. His instinctual reaction was to say no, and ask why; considering it was highly unlikely she could get pregnant right now anyway. He showed restraint, though, for the most part, and resorted to just staring at her, because the wary look was already on his face.

She shifted uncomfortably and tilted her head back, looking at the bedside table.

"I just don't want to get pregnant again," she murmured. Jethro nodded slowly and reached for the bedside table's drawer, fumbling around for the stash that was kept there for the hell of it. She covered her face with her hands and swept her hair back, running her hands up and down his arms softly.

He kissed her again, tangling his hand into her hair, and she startled him again by gripping his bicep and pressing her knee into his groin. _She_ winced.

"Jen!" he barked, more because it hurt like hell than because he was angry with her.

"I'm sorry," she breathed tensely. "Jethro—"

"_What_?"

"I can't…I don't want to do this," she said quietly. He gave her a look of pure frustration, which he quickly softened when he noticed how upset and apologetic she was. He moved off of her and rested his palm on her shoulder, propping himself up on one elbow.

Jenny turned towards him and buried her face in his chest, breathing shallowly.

"It's fine, Jenny," he soothed mildly. She shook her head.

He disentangled himself after a moment and she rolled to her back, looking up at him.

"I don't want you to leave," she said sincerely, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Cold shower," he answered gruffly, kicking the sheets back.

Jenny let her eyes run over him and sat up, her hair tumbling forward. She grabbed his shoulder, shook her head, and beckoned with her finger. She tugged him backwards.

"I refuse to let my husband resort to such barbaric means simple because I have decided to have a psychological breakdown," she said wryly, drawing sheets back towards her. "Lean back," she ordered, tapping the headboard.

He did so, and she snuggled up to his side, stretching her long, smooth legs out next to him. Jenny started at his neck, kissing slowly, and trailed her hand down his chest and below his navel.

* * *

He came up from the basement, escaping from the frigid air that lingered down there during the winter. It was snowing again and that tended to make everything colder. He'd spent a lot of the morning fixing the water heater.

Jenny was in the kitchen, cutting the little green tops off strawberries he had gone out to buy on a whim, since he'd been saddled with the accusation of eating them all. He was pretty sure a certain conniving grandson of his had hijacked their strawberries, but he didn't tattle on Levi.

He just planned on eating all of the tortilla chips in Kelly and Tim's house in the next few days and blaming Levi for revenge.

Jethro poured a cup of the coffee that was ever-present in his house during the winter and drank it silently, watching Jenny methodically chop the fruit.

"I am returning to my place of employment tomorrow."

"No," he grunted immediately. It was a reflex for the most part. He felt one more day was best.

"It's been a ridiculous three days," she snapped back.

"Friday doesn't count. You had the miscarriage Friday morning," he retorted.

She stayed silent. It was the first time either of them had bluntly or directly referenced what had happened using the proper terminology. The knife she was holding thumped against the cutting board loudly in the silence.

"You have two choices that I think are quite reprehensible to you," she continued quietly after a moment. "Allow me to return to work, or witness me losing my mind."

He growled unhappily at her, taking a slow drink of coffee and setting his mug down. He fixed a sharp glare on her, which she carelessly ignored, altogether unfazed by it.

"You'll take it easy?" he asked shortly.

She cracked a sarcastic smirk.

"I humbly vow to only exert myself in slapping Tony twice."

He smirked, pushing off from the counter and moving closer to her. He took up watching her cut the strawberries, his eyes on the fruit, then her petite, graceful hands, then the elegant beauty of her profile, framed by a few tendrils of red hair that escaped the low ponytail she wore.

He snaked his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck, brushing her lips against her jaw. Her skin was warm.

"Hot water's fixed," he told her, placing a kiss to her ear.

He heard the thud of the knife again and looked down, eyebrows going up in mild surprise. She'd cut her finger, and she dropped the knife, stared at the blood blooming on her index finger for a moment, and then cursed, a delayed reaction.

"Jesus, Jenny," he remarked, releasing her and reaching out to take her injured finger.

She jerked it away, her jaw tightening, and looked at the injury with narrowed eyes. She shoved the fruit away along with the knife. Jethro reached past her and turned on the cold water, which she put her finger under.

She sucked in her breath, turned off the water herself, and leaned forward over the sink.

"Shit," she hissed. She shook her head, gripping the edge of the sink. "I can't stop thinking about it," she said hoarsely. Jethro leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and watching her sharply.

"I can't get it out of my _head_. It shouldn't be this damn hard, it's just," she paused. "Just a miscarriage…"

She took a breath and her voice caught.

After a moment of silence, he asked somewhat helplessly:

"What do you need me to do?"

She leaned down some and then shook her head slowly.

"No, it isn't your fault. You're not doing anything wrong," she murmured, almost to herself. She straightened and turned round, putting her hands up in a 'don't try to touch me' gesture. She bit her lip and then her eyes took on a determined look.

"I'm going to Arlington," she said quietly, slipping past him.

He listened to her getting her coat. He listened to her keys jingle. He wanted to stop her, but he didn't, even if he thought it was the worst idea she'd had yet. Visiting Peter and Jim at the cemetery? He shuddered to think…

He heard her come back in the kitchen and turned around.

"I was anticipating an objection," she said, lifting an eyebrow.

"If you need to see them, Jen," he said, breaking off open-endedly.

She looked at him impassively while she buttoned and tied her coat, looping car keys around her finger.

"Tell me to drive safely," she requested with a wry smile.

"Drive safely," he complied.

"Ah. There. Alas, I feel unnecessarily protected, and life gains some normalcy back."

* * *

"Hi, Daddy," Kelly said, when he answered the phone. "How's Jenny?"

"She'll be fine."

"Implying she's not _actually_ fine," Kelly stated skeptically.

"She lost a baby, Kel," he said.

"So did you," his daughter responded pointedly. He pushed the comment from his mind, because he'd been trying not to think of like that.

"What did you want?" he asked a little sharply, making it clear he didn't want to get into it. The phone had begun ringing about fifteen minutes after Jenny left for Arlington. Jethro was on edge with her out driving in the ice in her state.

"Ah, is Jenny coming back to work tomorrow? Tony's concern is beginning to drive as all insane, as well as his authoritarian rule. He has a theory you killed her and hid the body," Kelly explained with a snort.

Jethro glared at the tool bench he was standing in front of.

"Yeah, she's coming back."

"You sound thrilled," Kelly pointed out wickedly. He grunted in a non-committal way. "Levi misses you guys," his daughter continued after a moment. "He's out with Tim picking out a new sled right now."

"Good," Jethro muttered.

"Are you listening to me?"

"No."

"Aww, you're worried about Jenny," Kelly cooed sweetly.

"Kelly," Jethro growled.

"Oh come on Dad. It's cute."

"I'm hanging up."

"Wait," Kelly cried. She laughed; he imagined her shaking her head. "Daddy, wait. Look, I just wanted to see if she was feeling any better," she paused, her tone sobering. "It's got to be hard on her."

"Yeah."

"Will you tell her I called? You don't have to tell her why, and I won't bring up the miscarriage, but I just want to see if she'll call back. Levi doesn't understand why he hasn't seen her, and he's antsy," she explained calmly.

"Yeah, Kel, I'll tell her."

"Okay. I'll see you later, Daddy. 'Bye."

She hung up. Kelly was good about ending the conversation when the conversation was over, as opposed to drawing it out incessantly. He shut off the phone and tossed it onto the counter. He slipped a sander over his knuckles, returning to woodwork as a means of working out the kinks, and trying to figure out a way to help Jenny to move on, and take her mind off of this.

* * *

Jenny was peppered with white snowflakes and slightly wet because of it when she returned in the afternoon. She was quiet, her cheeks and nose were flushed, and he thought she looked better. Her first inclination was to run a steaming bubble bath.

She took with her a candle and a glass of wine, odd touches for a late afternoon bath. He moseyed around the kitchen trying to brainstorm something for supper before he made an executive decision in favor of Chinese, grabbed a tumbler of bourbon and the Sunday paper, and flipped through it uninterestedly.

Jenny yelled serenely for him after a quarter of an hour, and he wandered into the bathroom on invitation, assaulted by the vanilla candle and honey of the bath soap. She looked relaxed; she looked better.

He dropped to the floor next to the bathtub, stretching out on a towel so he was looking at her. She flipped up her hand on the side of the tub and he slipped his into it, lacing his fingers through her soapy warm ones.

She smiled a small smile at him and leaned her head back on the tile, ultimately looking away.

It was nice. It was the first time he hadn't felt on edge. She seemed calm, as if she were feeling much less stressed and guilty. He massaged the pulse point on her wrist with his thumb, watching her breathe in and out.

She took a drink of the wine slowly. He set his bourbon on the floor next to his thigh, his palm flat on the floor next to it.

Jenny squeezed his hand and he looked at her patiently, waiting for her to speak. She stared at the dark, blood red wine in her crystal glass and bit her lip softly, lowering her hand after a moment.

"The doctor couldn't tell me whether it was a boy or a girl," she said calmly, her voice only slightly unsteady. "I didn't ask. At seven weeks, though…" she didn't have to finish the sentence.

She sighed, stared at her wine, took another drink, and then licked her lower lip thoughtfully.

"I think the worst of it is I kept—keep—thinking about Peter. In that hospital, I was uncomfortable and I knew I was going to lose…it, and I just kept seeing Peter's face. His eyes, his smile," she paused, rubbing her glass comfortingly with her thumb.

She tilted her head and eyes to the ceiling.

"It is preposterous to be this devastated. It happened so fast, and I was none the wiser," she broke off, her brow furrowing. She swallowed hard. "But I keep thinking of Peter, and I think it hits so hard because I know what I lost," she mused tremulously.

Jethro took a steadying swallow of his bourbon, content to listen, as that was clearly what she'd wanted if she called him in here to sit with her. He usually had to push to get her to do this, and he usually didn't push at all.

He was glad she trusted this to him. He didn't want her to feel like she had to suffer alone because he didn't like forcing anyone to open up. He chose not to say anything.

Jenny tilted her head forward and took another contemplative sip of wine, her eyes red, he now noticed. He suspected she'd been crying in the car or before he came in here. She didn't quit look at him.

"I have decided I'm not going to get over it very fast," she said quietly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, looking at her intently, and leaned forward, closer to her, drawing his knees up a little.

"There isn't a timeline, Jen."

She nodded.

She looked over at him and gripped his hand tightly, leaning forward a little so her hair tumbled over her shoulders.

"I've been selfish, Jethro," she repented in a low voice. "It was your baby, too."

He looked down at her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. He had been blocking that thought pretty effectively from his mind. When Shannon had been pregnant with Kelly, having a baby, being a father, hadn't been a reality for him until Kelly was placed in his arms for the first time, but it had been for Shannon from day one.

He was on par with Jenny in this situation, and he didn't like the hollow feeling it gave him. Having raised Kelly, and been a father, he knew what had been lost too, and he hated that Jenny had to go through it.

She set her wine glass on the edge of the tub and sank down in the water, immersing herself under. When she came back up she was covered in bubbles and her hair was soaked so it matched the colour of the wine.

He smirked and drank his bourbon while she brushed her hair out of her face. He ran his hand up his arm, tugged her towards him a little, and kissed her gently, not minding in the least when the water from her hair showered him.

He felt her smile a little more genuinely, and she pressed her lips against his cheek, twisting her hand into his wet t-shirt.

* * *

Jenny bent over the counter next to him, perusing her favorite Chinese place's menu silently.

Jethro was glad she was occupied, because he was hatching a plan. Something had caught his eye in the newspaper and given him an idea. She was fresh from her bath, quiet but much better, and he was concocting plots.

She snorted and lifted her menu.

"My usual," she announced. "Ah, I forget this place doesn't deliver to us, I'll—"

"No," he interrupted quickly. "No, Jenny, I'll go," he said, taking the menu. She didn't have to tell him her 'usual', he knew it by heart. She shrugged mildly.

"My chivalrous husband," she mocked lightly, glancing boredly at the paper.

Jethro gave her a suspicious look, as if she could read his secret plan in his mind. He patted his pocket for his keys and narrowed his eyes at the paper again; memorizing the number he'd seen. He made sure he had his phone and grabbed his coat.

"Jen," he called from the front door.

"Yes, brave knight?"

"Kelly called," he said neutrally, keeping his promise to his daughter and Jen's employee. "Said Levi misses you."

He hadn't quite meant to say the last part, and he winced after he did, particularly as it didn't garner a response right away.

"Of course he does," Jenny answered after a moment, her witty, sarcastic tone firmly in place. "He's stuck in a house with the Mommy and Daddy McKissyFace."

Jethro snorted and shook his head, shouting a quick goodbye before went out into the cold in search of Chinese food. He dialed the number he'd memorized and put the phone to his ear…

* * *

It was after dark when he got back, and Jenny, wondering where the hell he could be, had finishes lacquering her toenails with a dark coat of emerald when she heard him barge into the hallway, making quite the commotion.

Her cell phone was sitting next to her, a gloomy reminder of the conversation she'd had with Kelly. She admired her nails, forgetting about Kelly.

"I am quite happily aware that you enslave yourself to my superior being, but you were not required to actually go to China to retrieve my food," she informed him sarcastically, arching an eyebrow.

"Shhh," she heard him growl, and something like a squeak, and rustling of paper, and whining.

She was beginning to get a little concerned.

Jethro personally was trying to stay subtle. Judging from Jenny's posture, as he could see from where he stood, she wasn't in as relaxed a mood as she'd been when he left. He glared and growled menacingly again as he approached her.

"You better not be talking to me, Jethro," she warned suddenly, her voice sharp.

"Dammit," he responded gruffly after a moment, his voice closer. Jenny became seriously concerned about his sanity and suspicious about him in general, and started to turn around just as he rounded the touch.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was presently struggling to hold on to a squirming little excited Golden Retriever puppy, the culprit of the squeak and the causation of Jethro's cursing. Jenny paused, her lips parted, tilting her head at the fur ball. It barked at her.

Jethro sat down next to her and gently placed the puppy in her lap. Jenny reached down and buried her hands in its soft fur immediately, lifting it closer. It wriggled in her arms and she smiled, a smile breaking over her face.

"You bought me a puppy?" she asked, scratching its ears. Her eyebrows went up in delight when it cocked its head at her and whined excitedly.

"Nah, just leased it for a few hours," he responded deadpan, smirking at her reaction. It had been days since he saw such a genuine smile on her face. It even touched her eyes and cheeks.

The redhead ignored his sardonic jibe, her focus on the puppy.

"This is quite possibly the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me," she said wryly, earning a gruff roll of the eye from him.

She bit her lip as she bent her nose closer to the puppy Jethro had given her, looking into its big, friendly, liquid brown eyes and running her hands over it. It was so utterly Jethro, to just go out and buy a puppy in an effort to cheer her up. She knew how much he hated seeing her upset.

"He was the last one," Jethro said impassively. "Runt."

The puppy licked Jenny's cheek, and gave a few quiet little barks, tumbling over onto its back in her lap. She laughed, and bit her lip, rubbing its belly gently and looking over at Jethro. He was watching her play with the puppy, but glanced up when he sensed her gaze.

"I know he doesn't replace—"

She shook her head, effectively stopping what he would have said. She smiled softly.

"It never ceases to astonish me," she said slowly, with a shrug, "that your ability to make me stop hurting is infallible."

He snorted skeptically. He sure as hell didn't feel like he took away all her pain; where was the proof in that when he still had to watch her cry?

Jethro shrugged nonchalantly and watched her hands as she stroked the puppy, holding it close to her. It wagged its tail and continued whining and squeaking happily.

"My intentions aren't that pure, Jen," he said mildly, tugging playfully on the pup's tail. It growled at him. "The puppy is collateral for sex."

Jenny tilted her head back and laughed.

"Don't you give me that malarkey, you massive closet romantic," she said, jabbing him with her elbow. She snatched up the puppy and held it to her cheek, rubbing her nose into its silky fur adoringly.

"He's a grouchy old man," she murmured to it slyly. She shot him a wicked look over the puppy's floppy ears, a look he had missed a lot since he took her to the hospital. She kissed the puppy's head.

"He is to be christened 'Malarkey'," she announced sweetly. "To ever remind you that you're full of it when you claim you don't care about me."

He snorted sarcastically, giving the side of her head a sharp glare. She held the puppy up and pressed its nose into his cheek, smirking at the look on his face. It growled at him softly, cocking its head playfully. Malarkey. He had to stop mentally referring to it _as_ 'it'.

"You did bring Chinese to complement the puppy, correct?"

"He tried to eat it," growled Jethro menacingly.

Jenny smiled. She cradled the puppy half-heartedly and let it walk around on her lap and over Jethro's, exploring. She tilted her head absently at the phone.

"I called The Stepdaughter," she said neutrally. He raised an eyebrow silently, waiting for her to say something (or not say something). Her mouth softened a little. She didn't say anything else, and Jethro took it to mean that was the reason she'd been rather upset when he got home.

She leaned over and curled up to him, resting her head against his shoulder, and snatched up Malarkey before he could pounce on a throw pillow. She settled him in Jethro's lap and let him bite her fingers, wriggling them at him menacingly.

"I will take another sick day," she said calmly, surprising him out of the blue. "DiNozzo's wrapping up a case involving a dead kid; Kelly warned me off."

Jethro ran his hand lightly through her hair.

"Jen, if you want to chuck that birth control in the trash," he let the sentence hang. She shook her head even before he finished the sentence.

"Let's see if we can raise the damn puppy, hmmm, Jethro?"

He smirked. He sensed she was more than reluctant to ever try her hand at having a baby again. She was aware of too much risk now. She stroked Malarkey's head admiringly and wrinkled her nose at him cutely, pressing a thankful kiss to Jethro's shoulder.

"I am waiting for my Chinese feast to magically appear in front of me, Cowboy," she announced pointedly.

Jethro grinned, and dumped the squirming Malarkey on her unceremoniously. It was good to have her smart ass mouth back. It said she was healing.

Only in their marriage could the outcome of such tragedy as a miscarriage be such sarcasm as Malarkey.

* * *

_I'm aware that the title of this piece is (sickeningly) ironic and quite possible too blunt. I do have a fondness for it though, and LB/SF is sort of characterized by bluntness.  
With that, it is over, Finis, Good night, and Good Luck:)_

_-Alexandra_


End file.
